


Don't Hide

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Astoria Greengrass - character, Community: kink_bingo, Draco Malfoy - character, Established Relationship, F/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astoria decides her husband won't hide part of his self any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Hide

They've been married six months and she's yet to see his arm bare. Astoria knows what is hidden beneath his shirt, beneath the heavy material that's woven and charmed to be opaque no matter the circumstances. Caught tight to his arm as he shifts and moves, soaked through in a sudden rainstorm as they walk through the gardens. It doesn't matter. Nothing can be seen beneath his sleeve. Astoria doesn't understand why. It's not as though she's innocent of the black symbol in his skin.

Draco refuses to show her, refuses to let her see. They even make love in the dark. Their wedding night, he drew the curtains closed and put out all the lights, no lamp or moon allowed to enter the room. In addition to that, as if he were afraid she'd recoil once she saw it, he only allowed her to unfasten the front of his robes. Every night since, when he slips into bed, he stays clothed, and she wakes, every morning, to find him already dressed.

Astoria watches her husband as he works at the heavy desk in the study, his head down and his cuffs tight to his wrists. She doesn't know why he hides from her, why he acts as though it's secret and shameful. She already knows. Everyone does. Everyone in the wizarding world knows that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. The Dark Mark, the snake and skull, has been on his arm since he was sixteen. She's never asked him what it was like, to be permanently marked like that, and she never will. She doesn't even know if it's a tattoo, a brand, or some other mark, magically embedded into his flesh. She doesn't want to know.

She only wants to see.

She crosses the room quietly, her long, light robes making the barest whisper as she walks. Draco looks up, his forehead lined in concentration, then his face clears as he realizes who's approaching. He smiles and leans back in his tall chair, holding one hand out to her. Astoria takes his hand and perches on his knee to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The sheer joy in his eyes when he sees her, the lightness of his smile, always feels like sunshine wrapping around her. It's a rare look for him, an infrequent expression, and he only lets himself be that unguarded when they're alone. It's a sign of how much he trusts her.

She wants to see all of his trust, all of him. She rests her hand on his left wrist, one finger pushing beneath his sleeve. Draco tenses and wraps his hand around her wrist, ready to pull her free, and Astoria places her free hand over his mouth. "No," she says, and he looks startled. Surprised enough that he doesn't move, doesn't pull away from her. "No. Don't push me away this time, Draco."

He watches her eyes for a moment, and she wonders if he can see her thoughts. Her disquiet that he treats her no better than a stranger when it comes to this. That he keeps a part of himself locked away, blocked off, and it frustrates her. In truth, it hurts her. It hurts her to know that he's decided she isn't worth giving all of himself. 

When he closes his eyes and tips his head back, when his hand slips away from her wrist, she feels her heart clench. She cups his cheeks and leans in to kiss him, lips parting and tongue pushing in to brush over his. "I love you," she whispers against his mouth.

She starts at his collar, unfastening buttons and spreading the fabric apart to expose his throat and the narrow notch between his collar bones. She licks there, sucks gently on the rounded knob of bone. Draco holds still, breath steady, arms loose, as she works all the buttons open and tugs his shirt from his trousers. She holds his arms across her lap, the right arm first, to unfasten his cuffs. When she takes his left arm in both hands, she can feel the tension mounting in him, his muscles solid like marble beneath her fingers. 

She is cautious with him, so careful, so delicate, as she pushes his sleeve up to his elbow. She allows him to keep his palm down, his forearm turned under, until she has rolled the cuff up and smoothed the roll flat. She glances at his face and sees him watching her, his eyes as focused on her face as a drowning man would focus on the shore. Astoria tips her head and catches his mouth, kissing him slow. She gentles him with her mouth, calms him with her lips, and links her fingers in his. It takes a minute, a long minute of kisses, but at length he squeezes her fingers.

Astoria twists and his arm turns over. She keeps kissing him, keeps their lips together and moving, until Draco squeezes her hand again and disentangles their fingers. He shakes his arm, loosening the muscles, and lays it across her lap, hand dangling upside down against her thigh.

Astoria looks down. She catches her bottom lip in her teeth and carefully sets her hands on his arm, one at his elbow, one at his wrist. She frames the black symbol between her hands. It's not as dark as she'd expected, faded somewhat with the years since the Dark Lord's death. Even so, it's still a bit of shock to see it there in her husband's arm. The skull has a threatening expression despite the empty eye sockets; the snake's twisted coils writhe like a warning. It looks malevolent and vile. It looks like what it is, she supposes. The mark of someone evil.

No, she corrects herself. It's the mark left behind by someone evil. Her husband isn't evil. Misguided, foolish, desperate, yes. Once he was all those things, but she doesn't believe he was ever evil, and she doesn't believe he is now. 

She slips her hands beneath his arm and lifts it up. Bending her head, she touches her lips to the inner curve of his wrist. Draco's fingers curl into a defensive fist, but Astoria doesn't hesitate. She doesn't stop. She kisses up his forearm, her tongue flicking to trace the outline of the mark. Around the coils of the snake, across the jagged teeth and empty eyes of the skull. She touches every inch of it with her mouth, explores it in full. The skin around it is warm and smooth; the skin over it is different. It's textured and cold. It feels like scales and bone under her tongue. It feels like more than a mark. It feels _real_ , and she wonders how much more real it must be to Draco, to the man who must bear it every second of his life.

She flattens her hand over it, covering it up, and looks at his eyes. The pale grey has darkened to slate with worry and fright, and Astoria twines her arms around Draco's neck. "I love you," she whispers to him again. "I love _all_ of you, and you'll never need to hide from me. Never again, Draco."

His arm slides around her back and he hauls her closer. Kissing her deep, he shivers beneath her. "Thank you," he says, the first words he's spoken. He lifts his arm and caresses her cheek, and he doesn't try to hide the mark again.


End file.
